Spring, Sprang, Sprung

I began Buchholz Nursery 44 years ago, so it's quite remarkable that women in my realm suppose I'm somewhere between 36-to-39 years old. Boy, I wish, but I have been kicking dirt clods for almost three quarters of a century. This is my first spring after a long career where I can actually enjoy the march of the season...with its fresh, unfurling leaves and an abundance of flowers. Yes, Buchholz Nursery is woefully behind with the work schedule, as all nurseries are at this time of year, but I carry a little less panic as I allow the new owners to grow their own gray hair.

Mahonia x 'Arthur Menzies'

Mahonia x 'Arthur Menzies'

Rufous Hummingbird

The “spring” fun begins with the flowering of the Mahonia hybrids, and our old stalwart x 'Arthur Menzies' (M. bealei x M. oiwakensis subsp. lomariifolia) begins singing Christmas carols as early as November's end. I'm usually not visually aware that it is in flower as I coldly hunker downward in the gloomy garden, rather I'm alerted by the darting hummingbirds that bee-line to the golden nectar. The little hummers can become crabby with each other as they vie for territorial priority, and for myself I don't hang near the bush either, for fear of getting an eye poked out. 'Arthur Menzies' is a statuesque evergreen shrub that was introduced in 1961 at Seattle's Washington Park Arboretum and it thrives in Northwest, USA gardens where its parents barely do. Arthur was the Supervisor of Plant Accessions at the Strybing Arboretum in San Francisco, in whose garden the hybrid originated, but I can find no direct connection with this Mr. Menzies and the Scottish naval surgeon and botanist, Archibald Menzies, who was honored with the specific epithet for the “Douglas fir,” Pseudotsuga menziesii.

Hamamelis x intermedia 'Strawberries & Cream'

Hamamelis x intermedia 'Angelly'

Hamamelis x intermedia 'Angelly'

Hamamelis x intermedia 'Sunburst'

The “witch hazel” performance this spring was a brief affair. The Hamamelis x intermedias bloom early and last about two weeks, and while I enjoy them in my gardens they were always a tough sell. 'Strawberries and Cream' is a relatively new selection with cream-yellow flowers and red at the base; I like it so much I planted one by my mailbox. Both 'Angelly' and 'Sunburst' exceed old cultivars such as 'Arnold's Promise' for their larger and brighter yellow flowers.

Hamamelis vernalis 'Red Imp'

Hamamelis vernalis 'Blue Moon'

Hamamelis vernalis 'Red Imp' emitted a soft autumnal glow last November, then showed off again in February with flower petals wine-red at the base and copper-colored at the tips. I don't know about the “imp” name as that implies a dwarf plant, but mine grows exuberantly. Another H. vernalis is 'Blue Moon', and I was somewhat startled when I drove past it. It was in heavy flower, but I can't say it was beautiful. Oregon plantsman Roger Gossler describes the color as “violet purple,” a most surreal hue, and claims that the parent plant was discovered by Jorg Kohout of Germany, the plantsman mainly known for his introduction of Abies koreana 'Ice Breaker'. The cultivar name is unusual – for I see little blue in the witch hazel – so I think something was lost in translation.

Hamamelis japonica 'Pendula'

Hamamelis japonica 'Pendula'

It was also Roger Gossler who gifted me a Hamamelis japonica 'Pendula' but we have yet to propagate it. The low-spreading bush is approximately 4' wide and only 10” tall and I like its structure especially when deciduous. The light yellow flowers are small and occur at the time of year when nobody ever sees it, but nevertheless my solo tree is frequently on customers' wish lists, and we should probably plant it in the garden to decrease the urge to sell it.

Corylopsis sinensis var. calvescens f. veitchiana.

Corylopsis sinensis var. calvescens f. veitchiana.

The Hillier Manual of Trees and Shrubs (2019) sings the praises for the Corylopsis genus in the Hamamelidaceae family, and opines: “These exquisitely beautiful plants are easily grown and should be much more widely planted.” Hillier suggests there are about 24 species in the genus, whose name is derived from the Greek words korylos meaning “hazel” and opsis meaning “like, similar to,” although Corylopsis resides in the Hamamelidaceae family but Corylus is a member of the Betulaceae family. I never did acquire the skill to identify the various species, and there's even a planting of seven species next to each other in our Long Road section. I wanted to learn how to identify them but they basically all look alike., and if we ever lost the labels we'd be hapless. But even with their labels the nomenclature evolves with forms and varieties and many of my tags are outdated. For example, what used to be C. willmottiae is now C. sinensis Willmottiae Group and C. veitchiana is now C. sinensis var. calvescens f. veitchiana. Wow – a form and a variety for the latter – it was originally discovered by E.H. Wilson in 1900 in China.

Corylopsis sinensis 'Spring Purple'

Corylopsis spicata 'Golden Spring'

Corylopsis spicata 'Golden Spring'

Corylopsis glaucophylla

Corylopsis sinensis 'Spring Purple' is a favorite in the landscape for its purple new growth, and it pairs well with C. spicata 'Golden Spring', although the latter requires PM shade, at least in Oregon at Buchholz Nursery. One species – C. glaucophylla – remains a mystery, if indeed it is a unique species. I've only seen it listed once, at the now defunct Heronswood Nursery, but I've been unable to learn why it received that specific epithet and who did so. We used to root the various species and cultivars under mist in summer, with 'Golden Spring' being the most popular. It's best to not graft Corylopsis selections due to the suckering nature of the beast, and even on their own roots the gardener will experience them growing quite wide as they mature.

Acer opalus ssp. obtusatum

Acer japonicum 'Maiku nishiki'

Acer japonicum 'Maiku nishiki'

I walked through the Hoyt Arboretum of Portland with my daughter H. last week. In the distance I could see a Corylopsis-looking tree in bloom, but then my eyesight is not so good anymore. “What is it? What is it?” I said aloud as we approached. It humored my daughter that I was so driven to know, that I become restless when I don't know the identity of a tree. I don't know why I can't be normal around trees and just accept them for their pleasant qualities like my wife and everyone else does. We were in the maple section and...ah, I could finally see that it was an Acer species with prominent flowers: Acer opalus subsp. obtusatum, a medium-sized tree from the Mediterranean region. The Hoyt tree was in fine form, but I recalled growing it at the nursery long ago, with it eventually perishing in a harsh winter. I conclude that I baby my trees too much in lush conditions, whereas the trees must fend for themselves at the Hoyt, and maybe – overall – they thrive there better. My daughter was impressed with the A. opalus's showy yellow flowers, and also with a neighboring tree of A. japonicum with its red flowers. She wasn't aware that maples even produced flowers at all; but yes, dear, maples have sex too – a topic she preferred I drop altogether.

Acer buergerianum 'Miyasama yatsubusa'

Acer buergerianum 'Miyasama yatsubusa'

H. would be bewildered with the obscene amount of flowering and seed production that occurs some years on our Acer buergerianum 'Miyasama yatsubusa', both in containers in the greenhouse, as well as with our 40-year-old specimen in the Display Garden. Sadly the tiny seeds rarely germinate – for me, at least – and when they do they grow as a regular A. buergerianum. New growth is stunted these days on my garden pillar with the over-abundance of flower production, so propagation is with rather thick, two-year scionwood which is also encumbered with unwanted flowers. It seems as if we are developing a more-dwarf strain of 'Miyasama yatsubusa' than we used to grow 30-40 years ago, while many propagators experience that the opposite usually happens. Our trees are in high demand, however it requires two additional years for the dwarf Trident to make a salable one-gallon pot compared with the typical Acer palmatum cultivar.

Acer macrophyllum

Acer macrophyllum

Acer macrophyllum 'Mocha Rose'

An impressive harbinger of spring is Highway 26 from the west into Portland, for both sides of the three-mile canyon are festooned with racemes of yellow from the flowers of the “Oregon maple,” Acer macrophyllum. As if that wasn't exuberance enough for one year, a yellow haze will reappear in autumn when the deciduous leaves begin to fall. A special treat at the nursery is when our introduction of Acer macrophyllum 'Mocha Rose' flowers at the same time as the rose colored leaves begin to emerge. Once, an enthusiastic visitor stumbled with superlatives and blurted, “That's the most incredible thing I never saw!” Mee too...I think.

Stachyurus salicifolius

Stachyurus salicifolius

Pale-yellow flower racemes are developing in the containers of Stachyurus salicifolius in the greenhouse. The specific epithet aptly describes the long, slender, willow-like leaves. An old specimen is planted in the woods along the creek at the southern end of the nursery, and it lends a graceful presence among the alders. However much I liked it for its feminine appearance, we found them nearly impossible to sell, so I was surprised when the new Buchholz Nursery owners ordered a hundred pots from another grower. With MrMaple's strong media identity and a huge mail-order clientele, I'm confident they will find enough customers, so I'm pleased if S. salicifolius makes a comeback at the nursery.

Magnolia 'Kiki's Broom'

Magnolia 'Kiki's Broom'

Kiki

The magnolias are in their prime this week, and the gangly, large-growing trees finally justify their inclusion in the collection. Of course some cultivars are more dwarf and compact compared to others, but in most cases they become too crowded, even at middle age. An exception to the large size is Magnolia 'Kiki's Broom' which occurred as a witch's broom on a probable M. x soulangeana. I don't include a specific epithet because I'm not positive, and I never saw the original host tree either. I received propagation wood from plantsman Greg Williams (who was not a magnolia guru) about 25 years ago but then he suddenly went quiet and would never answer his telephone. We built up our stock of the broom, but before commerce could commence we needed a name. At the time my youngest daughters were infatuated with a Japanese animated character, a cute little girl who flew around on a magical broom with her cat; so, 'Kiki's Broom'. Later I learned that wood was also sent to Europe, where it is known under one or possibly more names. Too bad.

Magnolia 'Genie'

Magnolia 'Genie'

Magnolia x 'Genie' is an exciting new introduction that we have been growing for about a dozen years, but unfortunately it is patented so we can't propagate and I must buy in my starts. The cultivar features tulip-shaped blossoms of dark maroon on a narrow, compact tree, so it is perfect for a smaller garden. The sweetly-fragrant flowers are open now – spring-spranged – but later in summer we often get a second flush of flowers. The hybrid was produced by New Zealand plantsman Vance Hooper and arose from crossing cultivars of M. x soulangeana with M. liliiflora. It should be planted in full sun, and is hardy to -20 F, USDA zone 5. Judging from my older plants I expect 'Genie' to reach at least 15' tall, but will only be about 6-7' wide; a purple pillar with flowers abundantly borne.

Magnolia 'Mighty Mouse'

But before you conclude that Magnolia 'Genie' is the best selection ever, you should see M. 'Mighty Mouse', also bred by Vance Hooper. Perhaps it is also patented but I won't try to find out, and I'll just grow a small number and claim ignorance if outed. 'Mighty Mouse' resembles 'Genie' in flower form and color, but it is much more diminutive. It would look smart as a fresh bud on one's lapel.

Caerhays Castle

Magnolia 'Caerhays Belle'

Magnolia 'Caerhays Belle'

Haruko with Magnolia 'Caerhays Belle'

If the gardener has ample space, then it's a luxury to fill it with the large-growing Magnolia 'Caerhays Belle'. There's nothing neat and tidy about the blossoms, rather they remind me of a formerly good-looking dame who now wears flamboyant clothing and lathers on excessive makeup to conceal her age. According to Hillier, the belle is M. sargentiana var. robusta crossed with M. springeri 'Diva', and the “magnificent” tree “was raised at Caerhays [in southern England] in 1951. Very large, salmon-pink flowers with 12 broad tepels appear before the leaves.” My start came from the eclectic garden of the late Dr. Corbin of Portland, Oregon. Sunset Magazine featured a story about 'Caerhays Belle' in their monthly gardening section, with a photo of the doctor's great-grand-daughter posing with a single blossom that was larger than her pretty head. Due to the article, sales spiked with retail and mail-order nurseries who carried the hybrid, such as Gossler Farms and Nursery in Oregon. I duplicated the flower/pretty face with my new wife, Haruko, who posed with the Dr. Corbin tree since his great-grand-daughter wasn't available.

Ribes sanguineum 'Pulborough Scarlet'

Ribes sanguineum 'Pulborough Scarlet'

Ribes sanguineum 'Pulborough Scarlet'

Ribes sanguineum 'Pulborough Scarlet'

Archibald Menzies

Our native “wild current” is Ribes sanguineum*, and the cultivar 'Pulborough Scarlet' is hogging a lot of backyard space at Flora Farm. Now the 10' tall by 12' wide monster is in full bloom with thousands of flowers cherished by our resident hummingbirds. The scarlet color evolves with their age, ranging from rich red when new, then later fading to pink. The hue can change from minute to minute as well, depending whether the sun is shining on it directly or when the sky is cloudy. I once wanted to surprise wife Haruko with a bouquet of Ribes which I brought into the house. She thanked and rewarded me with a smile, but half an hour later we looked at each other with frowning faces and mutually concluded that we couldn't tolerate the rank odor any more. Surprisingly Hillier describes the stinky current as “useful for cutting for the home and easily forced. First discovered by [the aforementioned] Archibald Menzies in 1793 and introduced in 1817.” The pungent smell reminded me of when I used to scramble through its brush as a youth while headed upstream to fish; the odor wasn't so bad when not constrained indoors. My grandmother used to make a delicious dark jelly with its tiny black fruits, and the berries' tartness combined with pounds of sugar added greatly to my peanut butter sandwiches.

*Sanguineum: from Latin sanguineus “of blood.”

Acer palmatum 'Goshiki kotohime'

Acer palmatum 'Mikawa yatsubusa'

Acer palmatum 'Yellow Threads'

New maple grafts

Speaking of blood, my life-blood at the nursery is with the maples, and it's a relief and joyous pleasure when last summer's grafts begin to leaf out in spring. It's the Acer japonicums that emerge first, followed by certain A. palmatum cultivars like 'Goshiki kotohime', 'Mikawa yatsubusa', 'Yellow Threads' etc., but today (3/28/24) everything else is catching up. David is currently in GH18 cutting off the liner rootstocks completely, and he beams proudly when I congratulate him on another year of success. He'll be around, hopefully, in a half-dozen years when his little propagants will grow to $100 apiece. I'm not sure if I will though, not knowing when all my springs will have finally sprung.

"Stop bemoaning your demise, Talon. You have been given an abundance of my floral favours."

Speaking Specifically

 

Picea glauca 'Pendula'

Ginkgo biloba 'Chi Chi'

Ginkgo biloba 'Chi Chi'

Ailuropoda melanoleuca

Acer shirasawanum 'Autumn Moon'

Because of my obsession with plants, my two youngest girls are ahead of the curve with botanic classification. They know that Acer shirasawanum 'Autumn Moon' – Saya's favorite – is commonly called a Japanese maple, but they're also familiar with the binomial nomenclature system that was first advanced by Linnaeus. Due to the plant labels around our home, combined with young children's curious minds and active brains, Harumi was spouting "Picea glauca 'Pendula', Ginkgo biloba 'Chi Chi'" etc. at age two.* They were delighted to learn that animals – from ants to elephants – are classified the same way. For example, the "Giant Panda" is known in China as daxiongmao, or "big bear cat," but scientifically as Ailuropoda melanoleuca, literally meaning "black and white cat-foot."

*My three older children were certain that I had brainwashed her.

Sequoiadendron giganteum

Chief Sequoyah

Sir Arthur Wellesley, First Duke of Wellington

Many botanic species names can be fascinating, as they reveal something interesting about the discoverer, or the botanist, or the location of the species, or something about the plant and so on. The origin of the word species is from Latin specere, meaning "to look," then it evolved to mean "a particular sort, kind or type." Sequoiadendron giganteum – the "giant redwood" – was given its specific name for obvious reasons. Why the genus name was selected, honoring a Cherokee chief who invented an alphabet for his people, a man who never ever saw a giant redwood, is more of a mystery. The British are still irked that Wellingtonia lost out due to the trivial detail that the name had already been used for another plant, but they still commonly call it Wellingtonia anyway. Even in The Hillier Manual of Trees and Shrubs, a sentence in the Sequoiadendron description contains wellingtonia, oddly with a lower-case w.

Abies cephalonica 'Meyer's Dwarf'

Abies cephalonica is the "Greek Fir" and was named for Kefalonia, the largest of the Ionian Islands off of western Greece. At the top of the island's tallest mountain – Mount Ainos at 1628 m (5,341 ft.) – is a natural park with Abies cephalonica, but it is also distributed throughout Greece, and I saw it years ago on Mount Olympus. Cephalonica is related to Abies bornmuelleriana and Abies equi-trojani, the latter known as the "Trojan Fir" from which the Trojan Horse was constructed. The botanist who named cephalonica was the Scotsman John Claudius Loudon (1783-1843), who was also a garden designer. Unfortunately Louden was afflicted by rheumatism and arthritis, and then he had is right shoulder amputated due to a botched operation to fix his broken arm and had to learn to write with the left hand. Later he had to cure himself of an opium addiction which he developed to endure his pains.

Rhododendron exasperatum

Rhododendron exasperatum

Some plant people still believe the untruth about the naming of Rhododendron exasperatum, that botanists were exasperated with their efforts to know where to place it in the Rhododendron scheme of classification. Actually it was named by Harry Tagg in 1930 for its rough-ribbed leaves. Exasperate is from the Latin verb exasperare which is based on asper for "rough." Spiritus asper is a medical term for "rough breathing."

 

Picea orientalis

Picea orientalis

Where is the orient? I would describe it as places like Japan, Korea or China. When I began my career I assumed that Picea orientalis was from one of these countries, but I later read that it comes from the Caucasus Mountains of southern Russia and in northeastern Turkey. At one point for Europeans that was way east, the place where the sun rises. Orior is Latin for "rise," and later oriens meant "east." "It's all relative," Einstein used to say, noting that the Chinese considered their land to be at the center of earth's surface. The term opposite of orient is occident, from Latin occido, "to fall" or "set." Thuja occidentalis occurs in eastern North America, so it's not west for me, but it is a western tree if compared with Thuja orientalis from Japan and China. On the other hand, I fly west when travelling to Japan, to the Land of the Rising Sun, to the Far East. On the one hand is a thumb, four fingers and a pencil.

Picea orientalis 'Aureospicata'

Picea orientalis 'Aureospicata'

Picea orientalis is a favorite species for me, though I've never seen it in the wild. We grow a number of cultivars, from tiny dwarves to large uprights. My first cultivar was 'Aureospicata', and I had to drive all the way to Nanaimo on Vancouver Island to buy it from a German nurseryman. I still have it in the original Display Garden and it is now over 40 feet tall. This old-timer cones prolifically, and scattered throughout the garden are seedlings, some green, some golden and some, like 'Aureospicata', with butter-yellow new growth, later evolving to green. We are trialing one we have named 'Lemon Drop' which appears to be more dwarf; but time will tell for we propagate by grafting onto vigorous Picea abies, the "Norway Spruce." Don't take me to task for naming a plant that is not fully tested, because I do it all the time. We have to call it something, and code names or numbers are not as easy to deal with. Besides, I might give one to a plant friend to try even before we're ready for general release.

Picea orientalis 'Sulphur Flush'

Picea orientalis 'Tom Thumb'

Picea orientalis 'Tom Thumb'

And that's what happened with Picea orientalis 'Skylands'. This golden cultivar was found at Skylands Farm in New Jersey in the 1950's. But then it was also marketed as 'Aurea Compacta' by nurseries apparently enamored with Latin. We also grow Picea orientalis 'Sulphur Flush' which is the same as 'Silver Seedling', but which name is correct? Picea orientalis 'Tom Thumb' is a golden miniature, a cute little bun, but it is also marketed as 'Tom Thumb Gold'. Again which? 'Tom Thumb', with or without the Gold, was discovered as a witch's broom on a 'Skylands', also in New Jersey. It was originally propagated by John Verkade who named it 'Compacta Aurea Tom Thumb' which is as invalid as you can get.

Picea pungens 'Hoopsii'

Picea pungens 'Globosa'

I have cut scions and grafted many thousands of Picea pungens, so I know the species well. I wondered why the species got its name, for it doesn't have a particularly strong smell, not like Viburnum foetida or Passiflora foetida. (foetida is from Latin foetidus, and in France one name is merde du Diable, or "Devil's faeces"). Back to the pungens "Colorado Spruce," the species name is derived from Latin pungere which refers to the sharp-pricking needles, not the smell. The root is similar to Latin pugnus for "fist" (in Greek pygme) and pugnar "to fight." I've had a pugnacious relationship with the Picea pungens cultivars for years, as I never wear gloves when I cut scions or graft. Back in the old days I would cut hundreds of Picea pungens 'Hoopsii' or 'Globosa' and my hands would be pricked to red.

Acer shirasawanum

Gen ichi Koidzumi (1883-1953) was a Japanese botanist who researched Acers, among other plants. He is the one who coined the shirasawanum name in honor of Homi Shirasawa (1868-1947). Sometimes Homi is referred to as Yasuyoshi Shirasawa, but I don't have an explanation for that. In any case Shirasawa worked under Tomitaro Makino, the Father of Japanese Botany. According to Antoine Le Hardy De Beaulieu in An Illustrated Guide to Maples, the epithet is from shirasawanus and then to shirasawanum. According to my research, there are three genders that a Latin name can belong to: masculine, feminine and neuter. There are exceptions to the rule, but generic names ending in us are usually masculine, while names ending in um are usually neuter. I don't know if this rule-of-thumb applies to specific names as well, or how it has anything to do with Shirasawa's maple. I invite a smarty-pants to respond and set me straight, for I am rather dim when it comes to botanical matters.

Daphne cneorum 'Exima'

Daphne cneorum 'Alba'

Daphne cneorum 'Ruby Glow'

Cneorum is an odd species name – as in Daphne cneorum (the rose Daphne) – since it is saddled with its silent "c."* It is from cneoron, the Greek name for Daphne gnidium, a poisonous evergreen shrub with green foliage and white flowers. D. cneorum is low, compact and more cute than D. gnidium – in my opinion – and is native to the mountains of central and southern Europe. We don't propagate the cultivars anymore; I threw in the towel as they can be touchy in pots, and my irrigation crew tended to drown the plants. At least we still have some nice specimens in the garden.

*There are some who think it is properly pronounced as suh-nor-um. Perhaps a Greek scholar could weigh in.

Apollo and Daphne

Daphne means "laurel" in Greek, and in myth she was a nymph who was turned into a laurel tree by her father, to save her from being ravaged by Apollo. I may do the same with my young daughters.

Daphne bholua

Daphne bholua paper making

Daphne bholua paper making

Daphne bholua paper making

Daphne bholua – pronounced bo-lu-a* is a Himalayan species, and it has special meaning for me as I have seen it in the wild. Back when I was sturdy and vigorous I was on a trek in the Mt. Makalu (5^th highest mountain in the world) area. Overtaking us on the trail were dozens of porters with their heavy awkward loads of bholua tied to their backs. Later we caught up with them near the village processing center. The common name for D. bholua is "Paper Daphne," and that is exactly what was being manufactured. All important documents, such as marriage contracts, property deeds etc. are on the Daphne paper. Back in the capital of Kathmandu I purchased a few sheets as a souvenir at the stationers shop. The owner probably had no clue where I had just come from and why I wanted the more expensive Daphne paper.

*The origin of the name bholua is the Nepalese name for the plant, bhulu-swa.

Beta vulgaris ssp. cicla

Pulsatilla vulgaris 'Rubra'

Pulsatilla vulgaris 'Alba'

There are a number of plants with the specific name of vulgaris, such as Beta vulgaris ssp. cicla (Swiss chard), Calluna vulgaris 'Robert Chapman' (Robert Chapman heather) and Pulsatilla vulgaris 'Alba' (white Pasque flower), and none of these plants are vulgar at all. Vulgaris is derived from Latin vulgus for common, ordinary people, and I guess that at times the common people can be quite indecent, coarse or obscene. Medically you can be afflicted with Acne (another Greek word) vulgaris, Verruca vulgaris (warts), and other skin diseases like Vitiligo vulgaris where patches of skin can lose its pigmentation.

Mahonia aquifolium

Flag of Mexico

A little hobby I have is to ask plantspeople what the specific name aquifolium is referring to, as in Mahonia aquifolium. Invariably they respond that the foliage has a "wet" look. That's what I used to assume as well, but actually it refers to the spiny barbs on the leaves. One could say that these barbs resemble an eagle's beak, and in Spanish the word for eagle is aquila. The Mexican flag contains a vertical tricolor of green, white and red. In the center is the national coat of arms, and an eagle is holding a serpent in its talons. The eagle is perched atop a prickly-pear cactus, and that atop a rock in a lake. All due to an Aztec legend that their Gods told them to build a city where an eagle was eating a serpent, and now it is the present-day site of Mexico City. What is confusing is that aqui or aqua is Latin for water. Aqui also means here in Spanish, as in Estoy aqui, or "I am here." Some botanists insist that Mahonia aquifolium, the "Oregon Grape," should be Berberis aquifolium, and it's true that this plant is in the Berberidaceae family. In any case Mahonia was named by Thomas Nuttall for plant nursery owner and friend Bernard McMahon in 1818. McMahon (1775-1816) is credited with publishing America's first seed catalog. He was also a friend of Thomas Jefferson, and some of the Lewis and Clark Expedition planning was done in his home, and upon the expedition's return, McMahon germinated and distributed plants from the trip.

Sisyrinchium douglasii

Fritillaria pudica

Venus pudica

Many visitors to Oregon probably restrict themselves to Portland and the Willamette Valley where the grass and trees are green, but the bulk of Oregon – to the east of the Cascade Mountains – is a far different country. The Douglas Fir and Western Hemlocks give way to Ponderosa Pine, and at Kathryn Creek on the Washington side is a nature reserve that I like to visit at least once a year. Every season is different, but if you arrive at the right time (usually mid-March) you will see the "Douglas Blue Eye Grass," Sisyrinchium douglasii, and if you keep a sharp eye you may even stumble onto a white-flowered form. Of course, the species honors David Douglas, the famous Scottish plantsman. You might also find a wildflower more rare than the Blue Eye Grass, Fritillaria pudica growing on steep slopes. This charming sweetheart in the Liliaceae family features butter-yellow flowers on nodding stems. You have to stoop and lift up the flowers to see inside this low-growing bulb. Pudica is the feminine form of pudico which means "modest," and in western art it is a classic pose – the Venus pudica – where one hand covers the woman's private parts. Men are not depicted as so modest, although the member size can vary greatly.

Lilium martagon 'Claude Shride'

Some other species names that I find interesting: Lilium martagon is the "Turk's Cap Lily," coming from a Turkish word meaning "cap" or "turban" due to the reflexed petals.

Myrteola nummularifolia

Myrteola nummularifolia – the specific name means "like a coin" (Latin nummus), and nummulus is diminutive of nummus.

Quercus robur 'Butterbee'

Quercus robur was named for its reddish hardwood, from Latin ruber for "red."

Punica granatum 'State Fair'

Punica granatum (Pomegranate) is from Latin granum for "grain" or "seed," and granatus "having many seeds."

Quercus suber

Quercus suber is the Latin name for the outer-bark of the "Cork-Oak," from the Greek syphar for wrinkled skin.

Rhododendron clementinae

Rhododendron clementinae was named for the Scottish plant explorer George Forrest's wife, Clementina Traill.

By the way, I occasionally refer to the botanical family that a genus belongs to, as in Berberidaceae for the Mahonia genus. These families are not a part of the binomial system of nomenclature, but are groups of genera, and their names occur by adding the suffix aceae to a name of a genus of that family. But keep in mind that the botanical classification of plants is never finished, never absolute, but is an ongoing process that merely reveals our current understanding of a plant.

Plant is Latin planta for "sprout" or "cutting," and then went into Old English plante for a young tree or shrub newly planted, or an herb newly planted.

I don't want to come across as a plant policeman, or as a nomenclatural Nazi, but rather as an aficionado of plant names. Nomen is German for "name," and after all I am of Germanic origin, so nomenclature is my particular lingua.*

*Tongue in Latin.